Rain, Lavender, and Antiseptic
by Rhoswen Eolande
Summary: Isshin dies when Ichigo is fourteen. Forced to pick up the pieces and fight to care for his sisters in the aftermath, he finds allies in unlikely places and their recommendations force him to come to unexpected realizations about himself. Almost two years later, Rukia meets a very different Kurosaki Ichigo - for one thing, he's gender fluid and openly gay. ByaIchi, IchiHitsu.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It wasn't raining the day of the funeral. Ichigo found that almost offensive.

It had been raining the day they'd found his father's body, just as it had been raining the day his mother had died years earlier. Rain, and lavender, and antiseptic - lavender because it was his mother's perfume, antiseptic because his father had been a doctor. They all reminded him of death.

His father had been found lying slumped on the ground, his back torn open and bleeding, his face in the mud. Ichigo had been called to the scene; he had forced his little sisters to stay at home even though they hadn't wanted to. He had run to his father's body, shouting things that didn't matter and weren't important because they hadn't changed anything.

Then he'd looked up - and he'd seen her.

Ichigo's mother had died when he was nine. He'd seen a girl about to jump into a flooding river on a rainy day, and he'd run across the road to try to pull her back; his mother had run after him across a street full of cars. When he'd awoken, the girl had been gone.

Well, he saw the same girl that day where they'd found his father. A flash of her out of the corner of his eye - brutally short dark hair, ghostly white skin, thin satisfied lips. He'd looked again and she wasn't there anymore.

Police said they suspected murder, but his father's back looked like an animal had torn into it. This, they couldn't explain. It had been the same way with his mother - the same back markings. With his mother, the police didn't see how they could have occurred in the few seconds between when the car had hit her, she had impacted her son's body, and her son had woken up with her body on top of him, her glassy eyes staring into his face. She'd been walking him home from karate class in a crowded place. His father's death was odder - he had suddenly left the hospital in the middle of his shift one day while his kids were at school. He'd been found off to the side of a crowded road. Nobody claimed to have seen his death happen.

Ichigo was fourteen. His younger sisters were ten.

So many things didn't add up, yet so many commonalities existed. Even in his grief, he understood that. He just didn't see what he could do about it. All he had to go off of was a face. He'd given a sketch to the police, but no one else in either case had seen such a girl on the day of either death.

Ichigo could see ghosts. He'd been able to ever since he could remember. Maybe she was a ghost.

But how could a ghost, and a little girl on top of that, be responsible for such a vicious death?

As the funeral proceeded, the incense burning and the Buddhist priest chanting a sutra, Ichigo sat in his seat in the front row dressed in a formal black suit and tried to summon some sort of tender memory, some sad emotion. Instead, all he could think of was the way his father would challenge him to random surprise karate matches, and engulf his sisters in bear hugs, and pounce on the gardener next door to prove he "still had it."

His father's face in the coffin was very still and pale, nothing like as animated and goofy as it had been in life, his yukata crossed the traditional right to left and his mouth stuffed with cotton. Maybe this was sacrilegious of him, but Ichigo wished they would close the coffin. He could hear his sisters sobbing beside him.

His father hadn't stayed. Like his mother, his father hadn't stayed behind. Some souls chose not to remain behind as ghosts, and neither of his parents had appeared to him. Both times, he had spent days pacing at the place where they had died, trying to find something, anything, to bring home and comfort his remaining family. No comfort had come.

Last time Ichigo had dealt with this by disappearing from home for days at a time, taking a train somewhere, anywhere, anywhere else, wandering unfamiliar streets. His father had still been there to look after his sisters. His father had been far more responsible than anyone had ever given him credit for: a loyal father, a doting husband, an excellent doctor with an expertise for healing people even on death's door. Ichigo realized too late that he had taken his father for granted. With his constant good humor, Kurosaki Isshin had seemed unbreakable.

But then, with her ever-present smile and gentle, loving nature, so had his mother Masaki. Ichigo was finally learning something he should have learned at nine years old: that no one and nothing was unbreakable. He had no one to intercede for him or defend him now.

Why hadn't his parents stayed behind? He knew he should be glad they had moved on with existence, but instead he was just angry that he saw all the dead people in his district of Tokyo except for the two people he really wanted.

Then he imagined his parents floating and transparent, chains hanging from their chests, and he realized that wasn't _really_ what he wanted. He just wanted his parents back. His eyes stung. What a stupid wish. Pointless, really, in the face of everything.

After finishing their burning of incense, Ichigo and his sisters each left a flower in their father's coffin. Lilies. Yuzu had chosen white lilies. Ichigo looked into his father's dead face, closed eyes. He had been the only one standing vigil at his father's body after the wake - he hadn't wanted his sisters to go through that. Refusing to sit down, he had instead stood ramrod straight, staring down into his father's coffin. By now he had memorized every detail, and he didn't think he would ever really forget that one image of his larger than life, unbeatable father inside a coffin, the wounds on his back hidden from the world.

The coffin was sealed shut, and everyone followed it slowly out to the elaborately decorated hearse. The coffin was laid in the hearse. Ichigo turned to his sisters.

"Don't you _dare_ tell us not to come this time," said Karin fiercely, tears in her eyes.

Ichigo didn't know what his face looked like. He didn't know what he felt either. There seemed to be something wrong with his emotions.

"Alright," he said robotically. "Then come with me."

They climbed into the hearse, and were taken away with the coffin to the crematorium. Ichigo sat between his sisters on the silent ride over. He held out a hand to each of them, and they grabbed his hands like they were lifeboats in a turbulent sea.

They stood and watched the body slide into the cremation chamber, and as she watched her father disappear, Yuzu let out a scream. Ichigo felt an odd sense of release as his father disappeared. It was over, he realized. Over. His father's ashes would be placed in the burial plot beside his mother's.

"Come on," he said, turning away, taking his sister's hands and leading them away as well. "It will take a couple of hours."

It. His father's burning. Life went out in a blaze of fire.

* * *

They ended up sitting at a quiet cafe a fair distance away from the crematorium. Ichigo clutched his hot cup of coffee. There was a heavy silence for a long time. If Dad were here, he'd have been able to… Ichigo finally understood, for the first time, why his father had joked around so much, had constantly been laughing. Laughter would have lightened the mood significantly.

Ichigo almost wanted to fill that place, to make a joke to break the silence and get people's spirits up. But he had never been that kind of person, and he didn't know what to say. Instead, he felt an inalienable sense of awkwardness, of being misplaced in a new job he didn't know the rules to or have the skills for.

So he wasn't like his father. Not really. Then perhaps he was like his mother. What would his mother have done?

She would have comforted. She would have shown love and affection. Ichigo had never been good with open, tender emotions - though he was good at showing a particularly short temper on occasion. He'd gotten at least that much from his father.

So he couldn't show emotion any better than his father had, but he had all of the seriousness of his mother. Perfect.

He looked up at his sisters, their grieving faces - and went on instinct. "I'll take care of you. I'll protect you." _Somehow._ They were just the first words out of his mouth, his first instinct. Ichigo supposed in some way he had never given up on his childhood dream of protecting those important to him.

Karin and Yuzu looked up. "How?" said Karin. "They could put us into foster care or an orphanage and separate us - they could take us away from each other."

Yuzu gave a great, trembling gasp, as if she had just realized this. Ichigo leaned forward and took one of his sister's hands in each of his.

"I won't let that happen," he said fiercely. "I know kids at my school that are orphans who get to live alone - and they don't even have an older sibling or guardian looking after them! I will act as the adult, I'll take care of you. Plenty of fourteen, fifteen year olds here live on their own. And plenty of kids live with older siblings."

"... That will be one hell of a legal fight," said Karin seriously. Ichigo wondered when she'd gotten to be so wise.

"But you can make it happen, Onii-chan - can't you?" Yuzu looked at him with big, afraid eyes. She was looking for reassurance - for comfort.

"I'm good at fighting." Ichigo offered a slight, dry smile. "That's one thing I can do. I will be your mother - and your father. You're not alone." His voice was thicker than he'd like, but there were no tears in his eyes, at least. "You're not alone."

They went forward and hugged him. Only when they couldn't see did he let the tears fill his eyes.

It was the first time tears had come to him since his mother had died when he was nine.

He still had his sisters. He still had a family.

* * *

The hardest part was yet to come. Karin, Yuzu, and Ichigo had to pick the bones out of the ashes and place them in the urn - feet first, head last. Ichigo heard strange childhood songs meant to teach kids about anatomy playing through his head as they picked, and felt the bizarre urge to laugh hysterically.

Tears kept sliding down the end of Yuzu's nose, but Karin's teeth were clenched so hard they might have ground together and on her face was anger. None of them said anything. They all held the chopsticks together, picking out each bone to place in the urn one by one.

When at last it was over, they placed a lid over the urn and stood.

"Would you like to take the ashes home?"

Ichigo looked up, distracted. "... What?"

"Would you like to take the urn home for a period of time?"

Ichigo thought of that big empty house they used to share with their parents - a house they couldn't afford anymore, even if he got a job. A house that had Dad's hospital in the front of it.

"No," he said. "No, we went the urn transferred directly to the gravesite. That house won't be ours very much longer anyway."

* * *

They stood the following week in front of the family grave at the cemetery. It was a vast stone monument, with a place for flowers, incense, and water at its front, a chamber underneath for the ashes. Mom's ashes were beside Dad's ashes. They were together again at last. Their names had been carved together onto the pillar of the monument when Mom had died.

It was just more economical that way. Less expensive to pay for two engravings at once.

Yuzu was still crying - she hadn't stopped, really. She tenderly placed flowers and incense at the front of the family plot, washing over the place with water. Ichigo watched the water pour, feeling an odd sense of cleansing. Karin knelt beside her sister, scowling ferociously.

"Can we come every year on the anniversary of Dad's death and have a picnic?" Yuzu sniffled. "Like we do for Mom?"

Both Yuzu and Karin looked up at Ichigo, waiting for his assent. At some point, he had become the parent, a job he felt marvelously ill equipped for. He didn't feel qualified to make a judgment call like that. _Could_ they?

"... If it would mean something to you, then of course we can," he said quietly, hands in his pockets, clearing his throat. He shrugged, stiff, still awkward. That hadn't stopped, either. "We can have two picnics every year."

Yuzu brightened, looking happier.

"What now?" said Karin solemnly, staring up at her brother.

Deadly seriousness filled Ichigo's expression. He thought of all those lawyers and officials and important people who wanted to take his sisters away from him.

"Now," he said, "we fight."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ichigo's social life at school had become entirely different since the death of his father.

He had distanced himself from his friends. People treated him differently; no one knew what to say. Mizuiro couldn't politely gloss over it, Keigo couldn't joke about it, and it was always hard to tell with Chad anyway. Tatsuki acted as a buffer keeping stupid or insensitive people away from Ichigo, but that seemed to be all she knew how to do. Orihime kept staring at him for long periods of time, which really just kind of made him feel more like a freak.

Ichigo smiled a lot at first, which was his default reaction when he was very tense. He acted chipper and cheerful, reverting to a person he had been before his mother had passed away, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. When that didn't work, and he was still treated differently, he slowly started to spend more and more time by himself, before and after class, during lunchtime. His after-school social life had all but disappeared. He turned dark, silent, alone.

He had research to do anyway. He'd filled out the paperwork asking to live on his own and raise his sisters and sent it off, and now he was in a perpetually bad humor because he was nervous about what the response would be. He sensed a fight ahead of him and began reading legal books, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable argument as to why he should live on his own and be legally responsible for raising his sisters.

Meanwhile, the money Dad had left them with was slowly running out. Bills kept piling up, and Ichigo kept waiting for the inevitable time when the utilities went out, or when they got the notice telling them they had to leave their childhood home. So far they were retaining some semblance of normality - Ichigo made the decisions, Yuzu did the cooking and cleaning, and Karin kept well out of everybody's way - but how long could that last?

Ichigo felt guilty watching Yuzu cook and clean. He'd promised to be a parent to them. What kind of self-respecting parent let their kid do all the cooking and cleaning? But though cleaning he could manage, he didn't know how to cook. He was hopeless around the kitchen.

One day, he was at a desk alone during lunch, reading over a complex law textbook - and actually understanding it, which was a little surprising even given his good grades - when he saw three people loom above him. He looked up cautiously. It was Keigo, Orihime, and Chad, a bizarre and motley crew.

"... Hey," he said, his voice soft and hoarse from disuse.

"Kurosaki-kun," said Orihime sympathetically, "you haven't been sleeping much, have you?"

 _No._ Like he was going to admit to that. "What's all this about?" He looked between them suspiciously.

They pulled up chairs and sat down around him. "We're staging an intervention," said Keigo matter of factly, and for once - incredibly - it didn't look like he was kidding around or exaggerating.

Ichigo bristled. "I don't need an intervention!" he snapped, temper flaring. "My parents are dead and I'm trying to figure out how to convince people I can raise my sisters! What are you supposed to do to fix that? I think this is a rational response!"

They stared at him calmly, unflinching.

"Kurosaki-kun," said Orihime quietly, "we understand."

"Like hell you do -!" Ichigo snarled, but Orihime interrupted him.

"We live alone without parents, too."

Ichigo stopped and stared.

"I… I forgot," he said at last, stupidly. Because they were right. They did.

Orihime nodded. "My older brother died in a car accident - at your clinic." She nodded to him. "He was a legal adult. I've been living on my own ever since."

"My parents died when I was a kid. I was sent to Mexico to live with my abuelo, and when he died I came back here. I also live alone," said Chad deeply. It was one of the longest speeches Ichigo had ever heard him give.

"And since we're all doing the whole Alcoholics Anonymous thing, my parents died in a car accident when I was ten and my older sister - who is still in high school herself - raises me," said Keigo with cheerful good humor.

Ichigo relaxed. For the first time since his father's death, he felt comfortable around someone. Out of all the people to make him feel understood, antisocial Chad, class clown Keigo, and a happy-go-lucky, clumsy girl he barely knew would never have been on his list of suspects.

And as he relaxed, he realized he was also very _tired_. He set the book down, sighing and sitting back. Even Keigo and Chad looked concerned.

"Kurosaki-kun," said Orihime gently, "we're here to help. What do you need us to do?"

Ichigo looked behind them to Tatsuki, Mizuiro, and Tatsuki's and Orihime's other girlfriends. They were watching the goings-on hesitantly from a distance, hopeful.

Ichigo realized he was glad he had friends.

* * *

It was a long process, moving fifteen years worth of accumulation out of a large house.

They sold most of it, keeping only their most important belongings or the things immediately important to them. The house began to look strangely empty. It didn't feel like theirs anymore, only a place they were staying. The sales kept enough money to last them another couple of months in the house, but finally their utilities went out one night in the middle of dinner, and the next day in the mail they got a notice from the bank saying that they had to vacate the premises.

"Who's going to move in after us?" Yuzu wondered worriedly.

"Probably people who can actually pay for the house," Karin pointed out flatly, as Ichigo stared down in consternation at the piece of paper.

"Well." He turned to his sisters. "You know what we're going to do."

* * *

They showed up on Orihime's doorstep that day, carrying suitcases and bags over their shoulders. She lived in a sizeable apartment. It was decided that Orihime's place would be best for them. Keigo already lived with his sister, Chad's apartment was small and crummy, but Orihime had managed to maintain the nice and airy space where she'd lived with her brother by herself.

"Hello!" she said brightly, happy and cheerful, as she opened up the door to see them all. She was very warm, in a flowery apron. "Come right in!" She stepped aside.

It was definitely a girl's apartment: soft rugs, elegant furniture, and rose-tinted window curtains that looked hand embroidered and decorated with sequins. They set their stuff down on the floor, looking cautiously around.

Ichigo realized he could sense a ghost somewhere in here, but couldn't see it or talk to it. Orihime's brother, perhaps.

"There are only two bedrooms," said Orihime, hands folded, in front of them. "I bought a second bed so Karin and Yuzu can sleep with me in my room. Kurosaki-kun gets the other room. I'll have dinner ready in about half an hour."

Karin and Yuzu looked incredibly relieved, and this, more than anything, prompted Ichigo to say sincerely, "Thanks, Inoue."

Orihime blushed and smiled. "We're living together, Kurosaki-kun. You really must call me Orihime."

Ichigo snorted but smiled. "Says the girl calling me Kurosaki."

Orihime was as good as her word. She set them all down around her low-set table, they knelt, and she placed dinner down in front of them. "Tada! Taiyaki ramen with wasabi and honey. One of my favorites!" She beamed brightly.

Karin and Yuzu stared down at their food in consternation. Ichigo realized, genuinely amused for the first time in a while, that he'd forgotten to tell them Orihime was an eccentric cook. "Thanks… Orihime," he tried.

Orihime blushed again. "You're welcome… Ichigo."

Orihime sat down and began chattering on and on, about all of her most recent daydreams and fantastical imaginings. She was bright and happy and warm, and though the Kurosakis didn't feel much like talking, she seemed to understand and for the first time their silence was filled.

Ichigo became aware for the first time of what an incredible person Inoue Orihime truly was.

* * *

Over the following days, Ichigo's mood grew somewhat sour again. Now that a basic home and necessities were taken care of, he realized not even having a place to live for his sisters would make him look even worse in the eyes of the law.

His friends came to his rescue yet again. Orihime worked at a confectioner's and sweets shop most afternoons after school, but Keigo's sister was the one with the job and Chad got most of his funds through the band he played in. So the two of them were available during the day to look after Karin and Yuzu while Ichigo went to look for a job. Then Orihime would come back and turn to a comedy channel on the TV for them all.

Karin and Yuzu complained a lot, but Ichigo could tell it meant a great deal to them, having some kind of supervision from an older person.

Ichigo applied for all kinds of work. Anything, anything would do. Anything that made him enough money to afford food, utilities, and some shitty apartment. He sent in applications and wore his black suit to interviews, and nothing. Still nothing.

Weeks, then months passed. Why couldn't he find any work? He couldn't live with Orihime forever. They were already an inconvenience to her, stretching her funds.

What the hell was he going to do?

* * *

He left Keigo and Chad on the doorstep of Orihime's apartment with his sisters that day.

"Good luck, man." Keigo still wasn't much of a kidder - not where this stuff was concerned.

"I wish I could be there with you." Chad frowned in consternation.

"Thanks. Just look after them." Ichigo nodded to his sisters. "The best thing you can do right now is to help me ensure I can say they are safe and being looked after."

He knelt down to look his sisters in the eye. They had been quiet and obedient ever since shit had hit the fan, as if understanding that he had enough on his plate right now. For that, he was grateful. "It will be okay," he said, but the words sounded pathetic and Yuzu teared up just a little. Karin put an arm around her sister's shoulders and nodded solemnly.

The first official meeting to discuss his "custody of his sisters" came in a conference room inside a law building in downtown Tokyo. Ichigo wore that same suit, which was growing somewhat shabby, and sat down at a big table with lots of official, rich-looking people, and as much as he hated it he felt skinny and all-knees-and-elbows and terribly out of place.

Was he ever going to stop feeling like that again?

"We are now in session," said the silver-haired lawyer, adjusting his rectangular glasses, clearing his throat with a sound like chalk snapping. The social worker next to him, a young woman with a bun, looked somewhat kinder and more reasonable.

There were lots of people at the meeting, but those were the two Ichigo really had to convince.

"Kurosaki Ichigo wishes to live emancipated and take custody of his younger sisters," the lawyer observed, as if they all didn't already know that was the reason why they were here.

"It's a tall order," said one man. "Usually it's enough asking for one or the other. To ask for both is a bit… presumptuous."

Ichigo bristled, but tried to keep a hold on his temper. "But there are precedents," he said intently, leaning forward. And he began going on a long speech about all the things he'd read, all the buzz words and precedents and loopholes and bylaws he could think of -

"Yes, but those precedents are usually more equipped to handle such a situation," the lawyer interrupted gravely, sitting back.

"What does that mean?!" Ichigo snapped before he could stop himself.

"Kurosaki-san," said the social worker, not unkindly, "do you have any sort of job?"

"I'm looking for one," said Ichigo quickly.

"But do you _have_ one currently?"

"... No." Ichigo gritted his teeth.

"Any place to stay?"

"... We're living with a friend," Ichigo forced out, ashamed. "We plan on renting an apartment as soon as I find work."

"So they're not eating dog food living in a cardboard box out in the street. What a relief," said one of the men dryly, and everyone chuckled.

And there was a huge part of Ichigo, the part who had fought gangs and was a black belt in karate and had a temper even shorter than his sisters - there was a part of him who really wanted to reach across the table and grab that man by the lapels, smash his head into the table or shake him and scream, " _Do you have any idea, you stupid fuck?! Any idea what you're doing to me and my family?!"_

But Ichigo stopped himself, just in time. That wouldn't win him any points. He was trying to look like he was even tempered enough to care for two children. He would never hurt his sisters - but, though the very thought infuriated him, these people didn't know that.

"I say we move to dismiss the case. Inappropriate circumstances," said the lawyer, and in a shot of anger and panic Ichigo forced himself to speak.

"Give me thirty more days!"

"Kurosaki-san, you've already had time -" the lawyer began, irritated.

"Give me thirty days." Ichigo turned desperately to look the social worker in the eye. "Thirty days to find a job and gather my case. You know my sisters are secure. You know they have food on the table for the time being and a place to stay. They're still going to school. I have babysitters for them. Everything's fine."

The social worker looked into his eye, torn, for a long moment. "... I agree," she said at last. "Thirty days. That sounds reasonable. He's just gotten all the information, after all." She turned to the lawyer firmly. Ichigo could have kissed her.

Though he had the feeling that would also make him look like an inappropriate guardian.

"... Alright," said the lawyer reluctantly. "We reconvene in thirty days. If Kurosaki-san has a sufficient argument by that time, and you agree with my verdict…" He sounded doubtful. "I will draw up the paperwork. Dismissed."

Everyone stood up and began filing out of the conference room, talking about lunch like they hadn't just given a teenage boy a deadline for keeping his sisters. Ichigo just sat there at the table, his head in his hands.

Thirty days. What the _fuck_ was he going to do in thirty days that was in any way legal?

A hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up. It was the social worker.

"Kurosaki-san," she said, "I just want you to know that it is a very brave thing you are doing. I don't think I've ever seen a teenager try so hard with as much stacked against them as you."

Ichigo smirked humorlessly. "Thanks," he said, and his voice fell oddly flat. "But it won't mean anything if I don't get to keep them."

"Yes, it will. You'll know for the rest of your life that you did all you could. Have a good afternoon, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo stared after the social worker, lost, as she left the conference room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Ichigo was running out of options.

He'd run out of new jobs to apply for online, in the local paper. He even went to one of those stupid, cheesy job finding organizations - nothing helped. Nobody wanted to hire a skinny teenager with no work experience who was still in his first year of high school.

And Ichigo was beginning to panic, seriously, honestly panic. He couldn't fight his way out of this one, and he'd already tried talking his way out of it. He should have known that wouldn't work. He'd never been one for words.

He realized the increasingly depressed train to his thoughts and they alarmed him.

Then one day at lunch, Tatsuki marched Ryou over to stand in front of him.

"Look, I'm not in the mood," Ichigo muttered.

"Fine. Don't let me help you," said Ryou stoutly, and unfazed, she turned to walk away.

"Wait, what?!" Ichigo yelped, sitting upright, clinging desperately to the word 'help.'

"Ichigo." Tatsuki grinned. "You're gonna want to hear this one."

Ryou looked around, and sighed. "At one of my favorite bookstores in Naruki, there's a guy looking for a new employee. Some old dude who likes taking in and mentoring young people. You don't have to have work experience; you just need to love books."

Ryou set the application down in front of him. Ichigo's heart beat furiously, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty, as he stared down at it.

"Look, I thought of you because I know you get really good grades no matter how much of an asshole you are, and I heard from Tatsuki that you really like Shakespeare." Ryou raised an eyebrow. "So I would assume you like classical literature, plays, poetry, deep philosophical discussions, that kind of thing?"

Ichigo was for once struck speechless.

"Go in there and sound really smart and talk a lot about how much you love books. He'll probably give you the job," Ryou sighed, sounding, as she always did, perpetually bored.

Ichigo stood and took Ryou by the shoulders. "You," he said unsteadily, "are literally one of the nicest people I have ever met." Tatsuki was grinning in triumph.

"Yeah, well, don't let that get around," said Ryou flatly. "Hug me and I'll kill you."

Ichigo grabbed the application and his book bag and sprinted out of the room. "Tell Ochi I'm sick!" he called over his shoulder, as his friends shouted after him in surprise.

He sprinted all the way to the train, and filled out the application on the train ride to the Naruki district, his tongue between his teeth. Then he ran to the address on the application, found it after a few minutes of being lost, and burst into the tiny, dusty little secondhand and used bookstore, completely out of breath.

The little old man behind the counter stared at him in surprise.

"I - need - a job," Ichigo gasped out, bent over, holding out the application in a shaking hand.

The old man blinked behind thick bottle cork glasses, and then smiled cheerfully. "Well," he said, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so eager to get a job from me."

* * *

Ichigo stood there nervously, twitching and fidgeting and fiddling, uncharacteristically nervous, as the little old man looked over his application.

"You're skipping school to do this," the old man said at last, and for a heart-stopping second, Ichigo thought he had blown it. Here he was, skipping school, still in his Karakura High uniform. What the hell had he been thinking? Then the little old man looked up and asked, "Why do you want this job so badly?"

Ichigo swallowed, and told the old man his story. "Please." He put an unsteady hand on the desk, sounding desperate even to his own ears. "Please, I… I just want to look after my sisters. Please give me the job."

The little old man looked at him sharply for a long moment, not nearly as dotty as he had been a second ago.

"I'll hire you," he said, "if you'll tell me your favorite books."

Relief and hope filled Ichigo's heart. It was the easiest interview question he had ever been asked.

And he took Ryou's advice. He talked for a long time and in great detail about all his favorite books. He spent fifteen minutes on Shakespeare alone. He pulled out every bit of intellectualism he could think of from himself. He put it all out there on the line, and he sounded like he felt - like he really wanted the job.

At last, the little old man smiled. "Well," he said, "can you start tomorrow after school?"

He told Ichigo what he'd be paying him and Ichigo was in absolute, utter, ecstatic disbelief.

"Name a time and I'll be there," he promised.

* * *

The apartment, too, came from his friends.

"The person downstairs just vacated," said Orihime innocently, "in the flat below me. Can you afford it?"

Ichigo thought of that nice, spacious, airy, two-bedroom apartment, and he really did hug Orihime, who squealed and blushed furiously. It took Ichigo a couple of seconds to realize what he'd done, and he stepped away, clearing his throat, very embarrassed. Karin was snickering and Yuzu was trying not to smile.

"Thank God Tatsuki wasn't here," said Ichigo at last. "I think she'd have murdered me."

Orihime looked as though she'd never speak again.

But she helped them move into the flat below her, nonetheless. Ichigo paid the pre-rent fee and the first month's rent with his first two weeks of work, and it had never felt so good to have money.

* * *

He and his sisters had started to become accustomed to life in the apartment when the time came. Buying groceries, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning, going to school.

Ichigo went to work at the tiny, dusty used bookstore, commuting from Karakura to Naruki. His boss, Hideki, loved rambling on at great length about the new books that came in, and set Ichigo at the cash register, making him memorize the ins and outs of the shelves.

It still wasn't perfect… but it was a start. For the first time, he and his sisters started to relax.

The day came for the next meeting, and Ichigo started out by telling them the news: that he'd found a job at a bookstore, had a two-bedroom apartment directly below a good friend, and was now looking after his sisters properly. The lawyer's eyebrows rose in surprise; the social worker smiled with muffled triumph.

"I have a couple of other people who have something to say, though," said Ichigo quickly, standing, and in came Chad, Keigo, and Orihime.

"What is your business being here?" the lawyer rumbled sternly.

"We're friends of Ichigo's," said Orihime evenly, surprising Ichigo with confidence and calm. "But more importantly, we're also emancipated and living on our own - Keigo living with an emancipated older sister.

"And I would like to say that from their experience staying with me, I fully believe Ichigo capable of looking after his younger sisters. No one is more protective, or dedicated, or responsible than he is."

She nodded firmly.

"Yeah, you guys don't really know who you're talking about." Keigo scratched at his head. "Ichigo is the best person I know for being an adult and looking after a couple of little kids. Out of all the friends I'd worry about in this situation, he's not really one of them."

"Ichigo is an excellent caregiver," said Chad simply. "Please give him custody of his sisters, and emancipation."

Everyone at the big table looked at each other.

"We need a few minutes," said the lawyer. "Please wait outside."

* * *

Ichigo paced up and down the firm's hallway, nervous, walking up and down across the carpet. What if they said no? What reason did they have? But what if they still refused him? What if -?

The door opened and he stopped, his head shooting up. The social worker was smiling. "Come back in," she said.

Ichigo walked slowly into the room, his friends behind him…

"Ms Itaga will have to verify your situation," said the lawyer, nodding to the social worker. "But if she finds your story checks out… we have agreed. You may be emancipated and have custody of your sisters. I will draw up the paperwork."

Keigo began cheering, Orihime squealed and clapped in delight, and even Chad smiled.

"Th… thank you…" Ichigo wheezed out weakly. "Thank you…"

He walked out into the hallway and sat down heavily on a chair, bent over as if in prayer, staring at his shaking hands.

His friends' excitement had faded. "Kurosaki-kun, what's wrong?" said Orihime, bent over in concern.

And then Ichigo's whole body trembled. And he began laughing. Barking out a harsh, uncertain laugh. "I made it," he repeated. "I made it."

His friends smiled sadly, gentle and understanding.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

In the aftermath, as things started to calm down, new struggles arose.

Ichigo learned he had no great gift in dealing with the public, which rather detracted from his ability to master a retail job. The books part was great - he was excellent at guiding people to the right books, at choosing which to display and how to advertise for them. Ichigo did genuinely enjoy reading. This, he was well equipped for.

But there was more to working at a bookstore than guiding people to the right books and ringing them through a cash register. One could never lose their temper or patience doing a retail job, and remaining humble and unobtrusive was a must.

Then there were the people who came in complaining. He couldn't lose his temper with them either. Not even when they treated him rudely, not even when they insulted him or the shop. He was not allowed to respond.

On one particular occasion, a man came in shouting about a book that had come to him in bad condition, demanding a refund. The thing was, the book was in exactly the same condition as it had been when he'd bought it - Ichigo checked. Ichigo tried to explain this to the man, who just kept getting angrier and angrier, until at last Hideki came out from his office in the back.

"What is going on?" he squeaked, feigning sternness.

 _I'm trying not to punch somebody in the face,_ Ichigo thought, his fists clenched. But he remained silent as the customer repeated his complaint to Ichigo's boss.

"Oh, of course, a full refund," said Hideki immediately, and he took the book back and paid the man the full amount in cash. After the man had shouted one last insult behind his back and stormed out of the shop, Hideki had sighed and put his hands on a silently steaming Ichigo's shoulders. "You really do need to control that temper of yours. You looked ready to murder him."

"He was wrong!" Ichigo finally burst out, unable to hold it in any longer. "There was nothing wrong with the book that hadn't been there when he bought it! And he was acting like a dick!"

"And your job is to appease him so that he comes back and hopefully keeps what he buys this time. And see that girl walking into the shop?" Hideki pointed. "You have to be polite to her, too. Good luck!"

He patted a stunned Ichigo on the shoulder and left.

It took Ichigo a long time to learn to keep his temper in check, to become quiet and almost bored while on the job in the bookshop. He learned calm and patience by force.

This came in handy when dealing with Karin and Yuzu.

* * *

Ichigo sighed, staring at the piece of paper in his hands. It detailed the third fight Karin had gotten into with another kid this month. She stood there in front of him, scowling, sullen.

"Karin," said Ichigo, pained, kneeling down to meet her eye, "what's gotten into you?"

"He was insulting Dad," Karin said tightly, glaring.

"You can't beat the shit out of everybody who ever speaks about Dad again," Ichigo sighed. "This coming from a guy who used to get into fights all the time. Do you even feel any better?"

"... No," Karin admitted in a mutter.

"Yeah. You usually don't," said Ichigo flatly.

"Look, it's not me you should be worried about!" said Karin heatedly. "Yuzu barely speaks, doesn't eat, and some days she won't even get out of bed for school!"

"Yeah, I'm working on that," Ichigo sighed. "But I think you're grieving, too -"

"I'm not grieving, I'm just pissed off! And if you _are_ working on Yuzu's problems, you're not doing a very good job at it!" Karin snapped.

He never admitted it to Karin, but that one stung.

He took deep breaths and forced himself, like a bookshop clerk, to remain calm. "Karin," he said, "I'm doing the best that I can." It was honest, and a little more vulnerable than Karin was used to from him.

Karin's eyes widened and shame filled them. She looked away. "I'm sorry… I just… He said all the same things about Dad that _I_ used to complain about. Back when - you know - Dad was alive."

Her voice had turned soft.

Ichigo sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I'd give anything to have goofy idiot Dad back. Guilt. I feel it too."

Karin was still staring at the floor.

"Look, you're not in trouble, could you just - could you please go into your room and talk to your sister? She's in bed in the dark again. I think she needs someone to be there with her."

Ichigo had no idea what to do.

* * *

He hadn't been to a temple in forever - since before his mother had died. But he took off his shoes, cleansed himself, and walked into the local temple in at least somewhat formal wear - a sweater and a pair of dark jeans.

He walked up to a Buddhist priest. "What can I help you with?" said the man kindly.

Ichigo took a deep breath. "I need to - I need to talk about grief. I, uh - I don't think praying's going to work this time."

It was the only thing he could think of.

The priest nodded, and led him out to the Zen garden behind the temple understandingly.

* * *

"So you're looking for guidance," the priest said thoughtfully, sitting on the porch, a few minutes later after Ichigo had told his story. "You want to help your sisters."

"Well, yeah, it's that - But I think it's also -" Ichigo struggled to find the words. "I think my own grief is keeping me from dealing with my sisters' grief. I can't be around it for too long, or I get choked up and I lose words. I just… I don't know what to _do_.

"Because now that the rush has calmed down, I keep waiting for it to all be over. For my parents, or at least my Dad, to - I don't know, to come back from vacation or something!

"It just… it doesn't feel… _real_ ," said Ichigo softly.

The Buddhist priest nodded thoughtfully. "I think it sounds to me like your family is doing what other families often do - verbally, physically, and emotionally dodging around the issue."

"What do you mean?" said Ichigo, frowning.

"I think you need to let yourself feel grief, and come to the realization that your father is dead," said the priest. "I think you need to practice mindfulness. Mindfulness means to focus on what's currently happening to you right now.

"This would be useful to you for several reasons. It would help you come to terms with how you feel concerning your father's death, something I think you badly need to do. It would force your sister to stop dwelling on the past and just focus on healing herself in the present moment. And your other sister's anger and guilt would stop controlling her life - she would be forced to step back and reflect on all of her actions and everything that's happening to her.

"I think you need to be mindful, meditate often, and let yourself heal from grief. The first step in healing is losing sight of the past and acknowledging the present, fully feeling what is happening to you right now. You have to acknowledge pain in order to leave it behind."

* * *

Ichigo tried a healing meditation with his sisters. It sounded hokey, but he insisted they all try it anyway. He pulled Yuzu out of bed, Karin onto the floor, and they all sat in the living room in a circle and closed their eyes and listened to an audio tape.

"This is stupid," Karin said from the beginning. "It's not going to work."

Ichigo privately agreed, but he said firmly, "We're trying it anyway." And they closed their eyes, and listened. Ichigo slowly began to focus on his feelings in the present moment, and he was surprised when memories began to well up - of his parents.

Not his father singular. His parents plural. He remembered having both parents around more than Karin and Yuzu, having a beautiful and loving home, whole and safe and secure. He remembered being a child, and a loved one at that. Then that home had slowly begun to fracture, and now, he realized, it was gone altogether.

That was what he mourned more than anything: the death of his childhood. He saw that image of a perfect home and family get smaller and smaller as it fell further and further behind him.

Then he was filled with new feelings in the aftermath. Raw guilt and fear - fear of not being a good enough parent to his sisters. He didn't even know he still had that. He certainly hadn't known it was so keen.

Eventually, when the audio ended, they all opened their eyes. Ichigo realized his were damp. Yuzu was crying, but more importantly, so was Karin.

Ichigo cleared his throat. It was a while, before he could speak. "... The priest I talked to recommended this," he said. "He said we have to stop focusing on the past and instead focus on feeling and healing the pain and guilt of the present. He said we should do this often - meditate - and remain mindful. Reflective. Present. He - he said it would help." Ichigo shrugged. "He - I don't know, he said - that's the only thing I know how to recommend to you. Try it if you want. And I'll keep going to school and putting meals on the table, and if you try too, I think we can make this work."

He stood.

"You know I'm not big on long speeches, so that's all I have to say." And he walked away.

Something worked. Yuzu started going to school a little more. Karin got into fights a little less. Ichigo didn't feel like as much of a fuckup.

* * *

He told Orihime, Chad, and Keigo at school about his recent realizations - they were the ones he really talked to the most, these days.

"Hey, Orihime," said Ichigo, "you know that Buddhist shrine for your brother that you have in your apartment? I'd - I'd like to put one up in mine for my parents."

Orihime smiled understandingly. "Sure," she said, "I can help with that."

"You said you want to be more of a parent to your sisters." Everyone turned in surprise to Chad, who had at last spoken. He held out a slip. "Here's the address and number of some cooking classes I took when I first got back to Japan. Maybe it would help."

"Hey, I think my sister took those!" Keigo brightened. "They came in really handy! I can just see Ichigo, in a flowery pink apron -"

"Fuck off, Keigo," Ichigo said, but he was trying to hold back his own amusement.

* * *

Orihime was as good as her word. She helped the Kurosakis set up a little Buddhist shrine to pray and burn incense for in their apartment. She even helped them pick two good photos, one of each of their parents, and place them above the shrine.

"There," she said, smiling. "Now your parents are here with you."

But she did more. She also helped them decorate - claimed the sparse, spartan apartment "needs some life breathed into it!"

One thing Ichigo appreciated was that she didn't try to force her own decorating style onto Ichigo. Rather, she let him dictate what the new home would look like, offering suggestions instead.

Ichigo chose a lot of black metal and repurposed metal furniture, hanging bright cartoons and graphics on the walls. Much of the furniture was vintage and secondhand, and the shelves were made of cinderblocks. The entire place had a pub warehouse sort of look to it. He also decorated the apartment with his own bookshelves and karate awards - Orihime's recommendation; she'd said it might encourage his sisters to add a "personal touch."

Yuzu liked the bright cartoons and the vintage furniture, and Karin liked the dark industrial sort of look, so in the end everyone won.

* * *

Ichigo uncertainly entered the cooking classroom on the appointed first day, and winced when everyone turned to stare at him. It was almost all women. _Damnit, Chad._

But there was one other guy in the class, and he waved Ichigo over next to him. "Thank God," he muttered to Ichigo, grinning. "I thought I was the only one."

"If everyone will please stop gawking at the second man in the class now, we can get started," the teacher, a big, graceful, well dressed woman with a bob of black and silver hair, said dryly.

"Sorry, Hachi-sensei. We were just thinking how sensitive and refreshing it is, seeing a guy cooking," one girl declared.

"Yeah, that's what I am. Sensitive and refreshing," said Ichigo flatly, and everyone else in the class laughed.

But he'd relaxed a little bit.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Hachi-sensei stared down at Ichigo's poor excuse for a bowl of stew. There was a little frown line of exasperation between her eyebrows.

"Sorry," said Ichigo, scratching at his head. "I'm, uh - I'm not good for this kind of stuff." He'd been hoping lessons would magically fix this tendency. Apparently not.

"But you could be, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo blinked. "... Come again?"

"You could be." Hachi-sensei turned to look at him evenly. "You're intelligent and you have an artist's eye. You like food, do you not?"

"Well, yeah. It tastes good and it keeps me alive."

The other guy in the class, Daisuke, snickered from the workplace beside Ichigo's.

"Well, that's all that's really required. Your problem is not that you do not have the natural inclination to be a cook, Kurosaki-san. Your problem is that you're impatient and forgetful, with a very poor sense of timing. Go slower."

Hachi-sensei walked away.

"Hey." Ichigo looked over. A girl was giggling at him.

He scowled. "What?"

"Just buy a timer, moron." Grinning playfully, she held one up for him to see. "It's not like they cost very much money. Come on. Come work with me."

And the girl, Ayame, taught him lots of tips and tricks. She helped him go slower and learn proper technique, and showed him the fine art of making everything so that it was all done at the same time.

He did buy a timer. It did help.

A couple of weeks later, he tried making the same meal - and it actually came out pretty good.

"Hey," he told Ayame, "thanks."

"Well, you just looked so pathetic -" she smiled.

"I'm thanking you. Don't push it."

She laughed.

As he went back to his work station, Daisuke smirked. "Getting in with the girls, are you?"

Ichigo felt immediately embarrassed. "Shut up. It's not like that," he muttered.

"Well, it's definitely that way for _her_. Girl has a gigantic crush on you."

Ichigo scoffed. "That's ridiculous. She was just being nice."

"Uh-huh," said Daisuke skeptically. "You know, she has a pretty great rack."

"Does she?"

Daisuke sighed and rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, when it comes to women you've got to be the most oblivious person on the planet."

* * *

Ichigo slowly realized, with this help, that he was better at cooking than he thought he was. As a perfectionist, he did find there was a certain satisfaction to crafting the art of the perfect, delicious meal, though he had some issues with admitting this out loud. Slowly, he went from following recipes to innovating as he went along.

Patience had been again drilled into him as important.

He began cooking for his sisters. His fledgling attempts were a bit pathetic at first (though they made Yuzu and Karin giggle, so that was a plus). But he did get better. He learned he liked making tasty food, and was actually a pretty good cook.

He also learned a few tendencies about himself: that his meals tended to be on the more savory and spicier side, that most of his desserts featured chocolate somewhere inside them. He made lots of fish, rice, and vegetables, healthy foods, and every morning for breakfast he made sweet natto with fruit.

They began a morning ritual. Karin and Yuzu would be late to the table, again, and Ichigo would bang on the wall and call, "If you're not out here in ten seconds, I'm throwing breakfast down the garbage disposal! Ten - nine - eight -!"

They were always sprinting out into the kitchen by "five." He hadn't had to throw anything away yet.

He and his sisters also began a dinner ritual - they would have one of Ichigo's dinners together, talking about their days, Karin and Yuzu would show Ichigo any homework they needed help with, and then they played video games after dinner for an hour. It was the only time they were all together most days, between school and Ichigo's work at the bookstore and cooking lessons.

He felt a real sense of accomplishment as the cooking lessons came to a close. He was now good at making a whole wide variety of foods, from soul foods to more traditional meals. He and his sisters did the cleaning together, dividing chores, but he did all the cooking.

He felt more parental that way, somehow. Yuzu was a little kid; she should never have had to do all the housework for as long as she did. It had been that way even before Dad passed away, and Ichigo now saw it as wrong somehow.

So he was feeling pretty good about himself. Then Hachi-sensei approached him one day after cooking class.

* * *

"Ichigo, you are a very good cook. And I don't give compliments lightly," she said.

"Uh - thanks," he replied, surprised, in the middle of throwing his book bag over his shoulder and filing out after everyone else.

"I have a friend who is hosting an ikebana, or flower arrangement, class. I am recommending that you take it," she said evenly, and Ichigo's eyebrows rose.

"That's - that's a girl thing!" he protested, blushing.

Hachi-sensei sighed. "It is now. All these traditional arts used to be so gender neutral, and now look at them." Ichigo must have looked as confused as he felt, because she added, "It used to be that all men were recommended to learn these arts. You're interested in the West, right? Think of the Renaissance man. It was a lot like that.

"And if you need further convincing, the person teaching this class is in fact an older man."

"... Why haven't you recommended this to Daisuke?" said Ichigo, frowning.

"Because he is careless and sloppy and loud. He does not have the same temperament for it that you do," said Hachi-sensei.

It was the first time anyone had ever called Ichigo quiet, but then he supposed that without his former temper he was not exactly loud.

"I'll… I'll think about it," he said in consternation.

* * *

"I think you should do it," said Yuzu, excited.

"Yeah. Be a rebel. Defy gender stereotypes," said Karin, nodding firmly.

"If she says you'd be good at something so artistic, you should take it as a compliment, Ichigo," said Orihime, smiling.

"Yeah, but you're all girls," Ichigo sighed, sitting back. "Of course you'd say that." They were all sitting in a circle in the Kurosaki living room. Ichigo had asked them for advice.

"Then ask Keigo and Chad," Orihime recommended, still looking amused by something he didn't quite understand.

So, reluctantly, Ichigo did the next day at school, expecting to be made fun of. Instead, Keigo said in surprise, "I didn't know you were so concerned about what other people think, Ichigo." He grinned. "It would be endearing if it weren't so nerdy."

"I'm not -!" Ichigo began in protest, and then he realized that was exactly the problem. He _had_ been worrying about what other people would think.

"You find cooking rewarding. You should have something like that, something you enjoy doing," said Chad quietly. "Emancipated teenage parent or not."

* * *

So the next day, Ichigo went up to Hachi-sensei. "I agree," he said firmly. "I'll take the class."

Hachi-sensei gave a secretive smile. "I hoped you would."

Ichigo wondered if he would live to regret this decision.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ichigo was once again one of the only men in the ikebana class, but he was getting more used to that. The teacher, a dignified older man named Akigara, saw Ichigo sit down and start making conversation with the girl beside him, and was so surprised he actually came over.

"You're here for the ikebana class," he clarified.

"Uh… yeah." Ichigo was slightly embarrassed. Everyone was now watching them.

The man put a hand on his shoulder. "Well," he said, "there is hope for your generation, after all." And he walked away, leaving Ichigo feeling very bewildered.

"Alright, we're starting class!" Akigara clapped his hands and everyone fell silent. "Raise your hand if you think ikebana consists of making pretty bouquets of flowers."

Ichigo suspected this was a trick question, but he raised his hand along with almost everyone else.

"Congratulations," said Akigara, confirming Ichigo's suspicions, "you're all wrong." The hands lowered. "There are several different styles of ikebana, but they all have one thing in common: geometry. Each arrangement has to fit a set skeletal structure, or framework - _your_ challenge is to be creative within that framework. Also, ikebana does not just use flowers. Any plant material can be used. Finally, one can bend and shape and break parts of the plants being used to fit the needs of the artistic piece.

"It's more like a sculpture or a piece of installation art than it is like a bouquet.

"I will take you through several different styles of ikebana, and you will craft me a hand-made, personal example of each. That is what these lessons will consist of."

And so they began. Doing ikebana, Ichigo found, was strangely relaxing. It was all about finding beauty amid math and science, and required technique like karate but in a much more delicate, tranquil fashion. He found he was good at aesthetics and artistic messages, and ikebana wasn't really about making pretty flower arrangements at all. His most popular piece consisted of a weeping willow branch formation with long, hanging, reattached leaves.

It wasn't about being pretty. It was about saying something, making the viewer feel something. An emotional and naturally creative person himself, Ichigo became an expert at artistically eliciting emotions in others.

Ikebana arrangements began littering the apartment he shared with his sisters.

* * *

"Hey, Kurosaki! How are the pretty flowers going?"

Ichigo clenched his teeth and kept walking down the school hallway as the assholes laughed at him loudly behind his back. Then:

"What a fag," he heard dismissively. "Trying to replace his Mommy, I guess." Snickers.

And for the first time in a very long time, Ichigo lost his temper. The anger that had been building inside him exploded.

He turned around and ran at the guy, punching him across the face before he could do more than let out a surprised cry. Asshole Number One fell to the ground and Ichigo began kicking him viciously - face, stomach, anywhere. There was a strange ringing in his ears.

"Ichigo, Ichigo! Stop, stop!" Orihime's panicked voice, distant.

Then two pairs of arms grabbed him from behind and yanked him away even as he struggled. "Breathe," came Chad's stern voice. "Relax, man." It took Ichigo a few seconds to stop struggling, breathing hard, his heart racing.

Orihime was staring at him with big eyes. Keigo and Chad had been the ones to pull him away. Their other friends stood stunned behind them. The guy Ichigo had punched was moaning on the ground, wheezing and bloody-faced. His friends had backed away from him.

"Shit…" one of them muttered.

Tatsuki at last recovered and walked forward, smirking. "He'll be punished, of course," she said smugly. "But, I hate to say it guys? That's what you get for talking about Kurosaki Ichigo's Mom just because he's taking ikebana lessons."

A teacher had come running. "Kurosaki, what the hell have you done -?!" he began, flabbergasted.

"Sensei. As a member of the student disciplinary committee, I was just about to give him detention," said Tatsuki smoothly. But as she walked past Ichigo, she muttered, "Don't make a regular habit out of that. I might not be able to protect you next time."

Ichigo relaxed, Chad and Keigo letting him go cautiously. When the hell had he gotten so sensitive? He had to get over this, he realized.

* * *

He went to Akigara-sensei, the only man currently in his life who bridged gender differences.

He told his teacher what had happened, and Akigara was quiet for a while.

"You're uncomfortable with gender ambiguity," he said at last. "You ignore the people who can appreciate it and focus on the people who can't."

"I… I didn't exactly grow up in a gender ambiguous household," Ichigo admitted, thinking of his super masculine father.

"Then it's understandable. But at some point, you have to be able to do what you want and learn to let such sensitivity go. Be calm about it, even approach it with a dry sense of humor.

"Kurosaki-san." Akigara looked at him matter of factly. "At some point you're going to have to mentally tell all of them to go fuck themselves."

* * *

Ichigo talked about it with his friends.

"I get what he's saying, but I don't know how to get over something like that," he said. "I mean… it's pretty ingrained."

He frowned, troubled.

"Well," said Keigo, musing, "they say if you just do something, eventually confidence will follow."

"Yeah, but do what? I'm already taking the damn classes," said Ichigo, getting annoyed. "What the hell more am I supposed to do?"

"What if you changed your appearance?" said Orihime suddenly.

"Eh?" said Ichigo articulately, raising an eyebrow.

Orihime bit back a smile. "What if you made your appearance more gender ambiguous? You'd be advertising to people that you don't care what they think of you. It might make you feel more confident and comfortable in yourself, more dry and sarcastic like your Sensei is."

Ichigo considered this. The idea made him uncomfortable, for no other reason than exactly the inclination he was trying to get rid of.

"Alright," he said. "Let's fucking do it."

* * *

Orihime took him shopping, and managed to toe a fine line between making him look ambiguous and making him look stupid. "I offered to let Tatsuki-chan come," said Orihime, amused. "But she pointed out she'd probably have just bought you a bunch of jeans."

They went according to overall build and appearance. Ichigo had a slim, inverted triangle body shape, so belts and statement pants went well (though he absolutely and utterly drew the line at crazy designs). V-neck shirts and sweaters were another plus, as were striped tees and double breasted jackets.

Then there was his Autumn complexion, with copper hair, gold skin, and amber brown eyes. So the basic colors he chose were pure white, coffee, chocolate, mahogany, bronze, navy, teal, rust, and deep purple. After that he chose eyeliner, either in brown or warm amber, along with yellow gold and wood wrist bracelets, and a single bone earring.

He had a heart shaped face, so his messy hair was cut in a mid-length side-sweep that fell down toward one of his eyes.

They stood together in the mirror. "How do you feel?" Orihime asked.

"Wrong question," said Ichigo flatly. "I _look_ great. I _feel_ stupid."

Orihime laughed. "You'll get over that," she promised him.

* * *

The next day at school, people were openly staring. The clothes were off-limits, obviously, but the jewelry, eyeliner, and haircut were all there, bracelets included. Ichigo went up to the guys who'd been laughing at him. Their mouths were open.

"Got anything to say?" he asked calmly, feigning confidence.

Asshole Number One's nose was still broken. His teeth gritted; he scowled and looked away begrudgingly. There was a long silence in the Karakura High corridor.

Ichigo walked away.

"Damn," he heard someone say, awed, behind him. "That's badass."

Ichigo was amused despite himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ichigo took a series of other traditional arts over the following months.

Calligraphy was next - from poetry to Zen sayings to ink paintings. The writing, he found he was good at. He was better at written expression than he was at verbal expression, and he found that when he was writing he was capable of grappling with feelings that he was not capable of grappling with in any other way.

He even began to write poetry himself outside calligraphy lessons.

But learning ink painting was harder. Naturally a perfectionist, Ichigo found that he spent too long on each piece, trying not to get messy, trying to get it perfect - to the point where it actually impeded his ability to perform the art.

Keigo, of all people, was the one to help.

"Ichigo," said Keigo, looking at Ichigo like he was an idiot (and that was when you knew you were dumb), "you're _supposed_ to get messy. It's _painting_. How the hell else are you supposed to improve?"

"That's… actually good advice." Ichigo squinted at Keigo suspiciously. "Huh. Weird."

"Hey! I can have good ideas sometimes!" said Keigo indignantly.

Keigo, who helped paint murals for their school, volunteered to help him with his artistic endeavors, which mostly in Ichigo's opinion seemed to consist of Keigo splattering ink and paint all over him and calling it art.

* * *

Tea ceremony was entirely different. He learned first as a guest, then as a host. It was a series of prescribed Zen rituals set around an afternoon enjoying tea.

Peace and tranquility were emphasized with tea ceremony, and it was here Ichigo truly learned quiet and contemplation, thoughtfulness. Tea ceremony, if you did it right, was supposed to emanate through your entire being and color your interactions even outside the teahouse. Already bored and apathetic, he moved to being polite yet sarcastic.

He became an expert at meditation and true inner awareness - and in the process relaxed a little and became somewhat more credible. You couldn't really master tea ceremony without getting to know both Zen and yourself pretty well.

He still learned alongside mostly women, but by now this didn't bother him the way it used to.

Through tea ceremony, Ichigo formed a fondness for green tea and the ceremonies and traditions surrounding it.

* * *

Music was his final set of lessons. Shamisen was the traditional instrument learned but, inspired, Ichigo turned to more modern music to fill his needs. He formed a love for both punk rock and slower, sadder music, and began trying to learn the guitar.

Chad, a bass player himself, was of great help when it came to music. He showed Ichigo the ins and outs of a string instrument, teaching him how to combine poetry and music together to create songwriting.

"Hey," he said, "do you want to try playing with my band one of these nights? We have a gig at this little club next week."

Ichigo had finished with lessons by this point, so at least some of his time was free.

He thought about it for a minute. "Yeah," he decided, "I'd like that."

* * *

Ichigo was sick with nervousness before going onstage that night.

"... You'll be fine," Chad insisted as they were waiting to go onstage.

"Uh-huh," said Ichigo, unconvinced, stiff as a board standing beside him. "You know, Chad, I haven't actually been playing that long -"

And then their band was announced and it was time for them to go on. It was about at this point that Ichigo thought this was the most horrible idea he'd ever had in his life.

They walked out onstage, and he sort of hunched in the back, playing quietly along with everyone else in the dim, bluelit club. He was afraid he'd have fumbling fingers, but he didn't - this actually wasn't so bad. He didn't sound as horrible as he'd thought he would, certainly.

And just as he was beginning to step forward and gain some confidence in himself, some drunk guy stumbled up onstage, grabbed Ichigo, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Ichigo stood there, stiff with shock, as the guy was yanked off of him. Then he tried valiantly to laugh along with everyone else. He'd felt very strangely when the man had kissed him - hard body, rough kiss, heat.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. His hands were shaking.

Later, he told Chad he wasn't going to do another gig with the band. "Didn't like performing?" Chad asked.

"No," said Ichigo. "It's not that."

And he was being honest. It wasn't that. The problem was… he wasn't actually sure what it _was_.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Ichigo felt like he was finally starting to get a handle on things.

A peculiar thing happened when you began to get used to a new lifestyle. The minute it began to seem normal, your old lifestyle began to fall further and further behind in your memory. Now he realized he didn't miss his old life quite as much as he used to. His new life in the apartment with Karin and Yuzu had become routine. The social worker had come and gone, his custody of his sisters and emancipation had been approved, and he was at last beginning to relax.

He banged on the wall. "If you're not out here in ten seconds breakfast is gone!" He held the pot over the trash can. "Ten - nine - eight -"

Karin and Yuzu came skidding into the room. Ichigo set bowls of sweet natto and fruit down in front of each of them, along with steaming cups of green tea. "Eat up."

"How long have you been awake?" Karin asked disbelievingly, as Ichigo turned off the music he usually cooked along to, which tore a strange separation between punk, and slow and sad.

"Come on, Karin, you know I always go out jogging before I make breakfast," said Ichigo calmly, sitting down at the table with them. He also went to the gym twice a week for weight lifting. He wasn't huge, not by any stretch - he didn't have that body type - but it was obvious he kept fit.

The apartment around them looked completed at last. The industrial pub warehouse look was still in full effect, but now there was a large TV usually turned to the comedy channel and a video game console system, and Yuzu's dolls and makeup and Karin's sports equipment and clothes littered the room alongside Ichigo's bookcases and karate awards. There was a Buddhist shrine to their parents carefully preserved, a little alcove for meditation with some audio tapes stacked neatly inside it, and ikebana arrangements littered the room on little tables. The kitchen was just as full, the spices rack taking up a whole drawer just to itself.

They finished breakfast, got into their uniforms, and locked up the apartment, heading their separate ways to school. Ichigo fell into step alongside Tatsuki and Orihime. He was wearing the usual: messy hair and earring, eye makeup and wrist bracelets.

"Hey, you two are both frighteningly intelligent," said Tatsuki. "Can either of you make any sense of that Literature essay?"

They met up with Tatsuki's and Orihime's girlfriends, and with Keigo, Chad, and Mizuiro, on campus.

"You ready for the open mic night tonight?" Keigo grinned, slinging an arm around Ichigo's shoulders.

"No," said Ichigo dryly. "Not in the slightest."

His friends had convinced him to go with his music and one of his original songs, noting that he'd already admitted performing wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. It was being held at the auditorium tonight, and then there would be an after-party.

Chad smiled. "You know," he said, "it really won't be that bad."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Ichigo remained unconvinced.

He got through a normal day at school alongside his friends. They were almost finished with their first year of high school, and finals were coming up. Ichigo wasn't particularly worried. He knew when he studied, he always did well.

After school he took the train, commuting to Naruki for his job at the bookstore with Hideki. He got dressed in the back room, in a striped purple and white V neck T shirt, a double breasted blue jacket, black pants, and a white belt. He stood, bored and apathetic, behind the desk, listening to his boss rave about the latest shipment of books he was placing on the shelves, helping someone when they came in. He only got two rude people today, which wasn't bad, all things considered.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, ma'am - yes, I know that's inappropriate - I can give you a full refund -"

There were good parts, as well. He sold three history books and one autobiography to people based on his own personal recommendations.

At the end of his shift, he took his book bag and hurried out of the store. "Good luck with your music tonight!" Hideki called after him. "I can't speak for your music, but I know your poetry is excellent!"

Ichigo smiled sheepishly - "Thank you, sir," - and continued on his way.

He ran back to the apartment, got his sheets of paper and guitar together, and met Yuzu and Karin out in the living room. He had agreed that they could break curfew just this once and allowed them to come.

"Are we ready?!" Karin was for once jumping up and down in excitement almost as much as Yuzu was.

"Sure. Let's go." And Ichigo led the way to the high school auditorium, where he stood off to the side of the stage and his sisters found seats in the audience alongside his friends. He crossed his arms and watched the other people go up there before him, leaning against the wall with the guitar slung over his shoulder. Some of them weren't bad, some of them were very good, and some of them had a total melt-down upon entering the stage.

At last, it was his turn. "Introducing, Kurosaki Ichigo!"

Everyone clapped and his friends cheered and whistled loudly to embarrass him, just as any loving friends would. He got up there on stage, and swallowed, looking out over the audience, palms sweaty. He wiped them on his pants.

He introduced the name of the song in a low, quiet voice and said he'd written it, sat down, and began playing. It was a soft acoustic song, and he sang in a rough voice to accompany the poetry he had written himself. He allowed himself to get lost in the music, and when he stopped and surfaced again, there was a long, heart-stopped pause -

Followed by a thunderous round of applause. Ichigo sighed in relief.

* * *

He hung close to his sisters and his friends group at the after-party, keeping a close eye on his siblings in particular. But there was this one girl - she saw him from across the room, sized him up like a piece of meat, smirked, swished her hair, and walked confidently over.

She kind of hung onto him for the rest of the night, grabbing at his arm, simpering, trying to get him to go have a drink with her or come out on the dance floor. Uncomfortable, he stuck to his sisters, insisting he had to look after them.

"Aww, that's so sweet." The girl faked a smile. "But I'm sure you can last for ten minutes. Come on."

He refused to budge. At last, she rolled her eyes and said, "You're totally oblivious." Before he could tell her it wasn't the first time he'd heard that, she leaned over and kissed him. It was very wet. He blinked and stood back, staring at her.

Her eyes widened and slowly her face reddened. "Hmph!" She slapped him, mostly out of embarrassment, and stormed away. Ichigo stood there wondering what the hell had just happened as everyone around him snickered.

Then he looked around in alarm. Orihime had just run outside, crying. "Hey, what the hell is wrong with Orihime?"

"Ichigo, you might want to go after her," said Tatsuki flatly, glaring at him.

"But -"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll watch your sisters. Just go."

"But -"

" _Go_ , Ichi-nii," said Karin, rolling her eyes as well. " _Trust_ us."

So Ichigo followed Orihime at a run upstairs, out of the party, and down the street. "Orihime! Hey, Orihime!" He finally caught up to her.

She was genuinely crying. She was facing away from him, trying not to let him see. He placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said quietly, "what's wrong?"

"I - I just - you're in love with that girl, and -"

"That girl I met two hours ago?" said Ichigo in bewilderment. "What the hell, you didn't see? I did something wrong and she slapped me and ran off."

Orihime looked up, sniffling, in tears. "R-really?"

"Why?" he asked, a growing suspicion inside him.

"W-well - it's just - I always really liked you, Ichigo," Orihime admitted shyly.

This threw Ichigo for a moment. "Well," he said, "if it's any consolation, I've never felt anything for a girl. You don't have any reason to be jealous."

Orihime's eyes widened. " _Nothing_? You didn't even like kissing that girl?"

"Not really," said Ichigo frankly, frowning. "I didn't exactly feel anything."

And suddenly, Orihime looked like she was considering something he hadn't thought of. "You _have_ always been pretty oblivious when it comes to girls… How do you feel toward them? Romantically?"

"Romantically?" Ichigo was surprised. He shrugged uncomfortably. "Curious. Embarrassed."

"And that's it."

"Well… yeah. I mean -"

"What about when that guy kissed you at Chad's concert?"

Ichigo felt the feelings shoot through him again, even in memory, and he blushed furiously. "That's - that's not really the issue here -"

Orihime's eyes were wide with thought and wonder. What she said next would silence Ichigo for a very long time and force him to face a part of himself he'd never even wondered about.

"Ichigo… are you _gay_?"


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I had to focus on Ichigo for the first several chapters, but this marks the first time I start to get into the points of view sometimes from other characters.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Ichigo laughed uneasily. "What are you talking about, that's ridiculou -"

And then he stopped. Because he'd thought about it.

He was much better at recognizing what was going on with men than with women, but based on his father he'd always just kind of figured that was a guy thing. But that wasn't quite what Orihime was saying, was it? She was saying he _noticed_ men more.

He thought of a supposedly hot girl. He thought of Orihime; everyone said she was pretty. And, well, he saw her as a very good friend, so thinking of her that way made him uncomfortable. What about another hot girl? What about… what about his PE partner, or Ayame, or that girl from the party just now…?

He tried to imagine making out with them. And he was as he'd said: embarrassed, curious, and confused. So. He took it that was a bad sign. He'd just never really thought about it much before; his Dad was super awkward, maybe it just ran in the family.

But his Dad would definitely have reacted, he felt, to kissing a girl. He'd have been a total perv about it, but he would have enjoyed it.

Ichigo thought of the "fuck it" attitude Akigara had talked about. Of his newfound gender neutrality. But that didn't have to make someone gay, did it?

He finally went to the taboo thought. He considered making out with a hot guy.

One of Chad's bandmates had a brother. He was pretty hot. Ichigo tried to imagine making out with him, or the guy noticing him, or even _looking_ at him… And he felt hot all over. He was sure he would have noticed.

Then his thoughts stopped cold in his tracks. _One of Chad's bandmates has a brother. He's pretty hot_.

That… was not… a straight guy thought. Saying someone was nice-looking was one thing. That could just mean "you're dressed well today." Calling them hot… that was another thing entirely.

Oh. Fuck.

* * *

Orihime had to come to terms with this. She sat in her apartment later that night, thinking about it, extraordinarily upset.

The guy she was in love with… was gay. Life was unfair, and she'd already known that, but she was certain this went to whole new levels of unfairness.

Orihime had always noticed Ichigo. He'd been there at the hospital the day her brother had died. Later, she'd seen him in school. "Oh, yeah, that's Kurosaki Ichigo," Tatsuki had said casually. "We used to take karate classes together. We've known each other since we were, like, five."

Ichigo was handsome. That was simple to see. Tall and slim, lithely muscular, with messy orange hair and a rebel without a cause sort of aura. He got into fights a lot but got excellent grades, was loud and sarcastic but also a great reader. He was… interesting. Full of sharp edges and intelligence.

But Orihime had seen the look in his eyes the day her brother had died. The alarm and desperate sadness and gentleness. And she felt there had to be more to him than that.

She'd always been a sucker for ferocious guys with a softer side.

But she hadn't really gotten to know him until the death of his father. She'd helped him every step of the way, watched him transform, and gotten to know him in a way she never entirely had before. She wasn't all right about him. He was more quiet, awkward, and reserved than he was loud, his sarcasm was mostly loving, his intelligence was more inherent than it seemed, and he was surprisingly artistic. It had been interesting… the traits that had stayed and the traits that had changed.

She also had to admit, she liked his new look. She could see why so many people were into it. It had that androgynous look everyone was such a big fan of, but there was a kind of subtle, serious masculinity under it that was all Kurosaki Ichigo.

But more than that, more than anything? She'd found he was very brave and protective, astonishingly dedicated his sisters, surprisingly responsible, and a really nice person.

And she'd been totally in love.

And now she felt stupid. Because he was gay.

There was a knock on her apartment door. "Hey. Can I come in?" Tatsuki's voice.

"S-sure," Orihime said softly. She and Ichigo had awkwardly and silently gone separate ways out there in the street, so what could her friend want?

Tatsuki came in calmly and sat down beside her. "We snuck after you and overheard what happened," she said, in that blunt way only Tatsuki could.

Orihime nodded, tearful, too sad and downcast to say anything about it.

"That Ichigo," said Tatsuki at last. "He surprises me at every turn."

Orihime looked up questioningly through her tears. "Tatsuki-chan?"

"He's always been a weird kid," Tatsuki mused. "And with his total lack of notice and complete embarrassment toward girls, I guess I should have figured it out. Ichigo's always been different. He had these weird imaginary friends until super later in life. Did I ever tell you that? Kids used to make fun of him. Said he was talking to dead people, or people who weren't really there. I had to defend him from lots of bullies."

"Someone had to _defend_ Ichigo?" said Orihime wonderingly.

"Yeah. Before his Mom died, he was this really cheerful, smiley, daydreamy nerd with excellent grades. A lot like you, actually. He was a total wimp when it came to karate, too. He could never really give me a good hit, I always beat him, and he cried whenever he lost. He was really sensitive - not in the romantic way, but in the actual psychological sense.

"His Mom's death changed a lot of things. He was so attached to her, I think a part of him died with her. Or at least, there were things about himself that he felt he had to cover up. But his reaction to his Dad's death has been interesting. It's almost like it freed him more to be himself - to find a balance between the person he used to be, and the person he became.

"That's not to say I think it's weird to be gay, and it's not to say I think he's glad that his Dad is dead. I just… I don't know what I'm saying. Just rambling, I guess.

"Look, Orihime." Tatsuki looked over at Orihime intently. "Ichigo really needs your friendship. I think, maybe, even more badly than he needs mine. You know I'd kick the ass of anyone who purposefully broke your heart, but I don't think Ichigo meant to. This time, he couldn't help it. He was just… being Ichigo. He's so stoic, it's easy to forget how totally out of it he used to be as a kid. How totally out of it he probably still is.

"If you can, try to forgive him for it. He's - despite everything, he's still a good guy."

* * *

Karin was the one to open the door when Keigo and Chad showed up on the doorstep.

"Come right in if you want," she said bluntly. "But I think my older brother is having a mental breakdown."

They entered the room to find Ichigo staring blankly down at the floor with his mouth open, kind of half curled up on the couch, breathing a little harsher than usual. Yuzu was rubbing his back sympathetically.

"So. Ichigo. You like dudes," Keigo started out with cheerfully.

Chad signed. "... Subtle, Keigo."

Something worked. Ichigo came back to himself and shot up on the couch, his face beet red. "How can you be so casual about this?!" he yelped. "I'm -!" It was like he couldn't even say the words.

"Yeah, so?" Keigo shrugged, amused. "Don't grab my ass and we'll call it settled."

Ichigo just stared at them, lost.

"Ichigo," said Chad, frowning slightly. "It's okay."

"Yeah," said Karin with her arms crossed. "It actually does explain kind of a lot."

"We did always wonder why you never showed more interest in women," said Yuzu helpfully, nodding.

Ichigo sighed, pained. "And you never pointed this out to me, because -?"

"How the hell were we supposed to tactfully bring up a question like that?" Karin asked flatly.

"... Point," Ichigo admitted, ignoring, for once, Karin's swearing.

"What's the big problem?" Keigo wondered. "It's not like you're Chizuru - things won't suddenly change just because you're admitting to something that's been happening all along."

Ichigo did relax at this minutely. "I just… it's embarrassing."

"Why?"

"Because of Dad," said Karin perceptively. Ichigo paused. Karin sighed and turned to Keigo and Chad. "Look," she said, "Dad would never have turned Ichi-nii away for being gay. But he was a naturally masculine, kind of pervy guy with no sense of tact who loved embarrassing his kids. And he'd totally have embarrassed the ever-loving shit out of Ichigo for being some gender neutral gay guy.

"And Ichi-nii's having issues with that."

"I just… I keep wondering what my parents would have thought," Ichigo whispered down to his hands.

"Well," said Yuzu thoughtfully, "Mom would probably have tried setting you up with guys. And Dad would have been _really_ out-there about how proud of you he was."

Ichigo looked up. "... You think?"

"Definitely." Yuzu smiled. "The only person who's judging you right now, Ichigo, is yourself."

"Myself and the world," said Ichigo dryly.

"Yeah," said Karin, "well, the world can go fuck itself. You, Ichi-nii, taught me that."

"... Thanks," Ichigo whispered, staring around at them all.

He still didn't think he'd totally moved past getting over it. But he decided he would try.

* * *

Later, the next day at school, Orihime and Ichigo met each other's eyes and smiled shyly. "Hey," said Orihime.

"Hi," said Ichigo, and it actually was kind of adorable how awkward he was.

Orihime walked up to him and they locked arms. Ichigo blinked in surprise. "I've always wanted a close friend to talk guys with." Orihime smiled. "Tatsuki-chan's never been any use for that. Come on, Ichigo. You'd better get comfortable talking about guys _really_ fast."

Ichigo paused, and smiled, grateful, his eyes gentle. "Sounds good, Orihime."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Is that guy hot?"

"Keigo."

"What about that guy?"

"Keigo."

"Him?"

"Ew, no."

"Ha ha! So we have a start! We know what we don't like! _Him_!"

"Oh, for the love of God, Keigo!"

"Why are you singling me out?! Mahana's doing it, too!"

"We just want to know," said Mahana bossily. "It's natural to be curious; aren't you curious? What exactly is Kurosaki Ichigo's type?"

"Actually, I want to know, too." Chizuru grinned mischievously. "I had no I had a fellow friend in the rainbow tree, Ichigo."

"I am nothing like you." Ichigo glared.

"Sadly not true," said Chizuru smoothly. "In all seriousness, though, the easiest way to get comfortable with the idea of being gay is to treat it casually with other people."

Ichigo sighed. "Okay…" He gritted his teeth. "Question time. Go."

"You have five seconds! Body type! Pick one!" Tatsuki called, grinning. Absolutely everyone he was friends with was sitting around him at lunchtime, listening with rabid interest.

"Uh - well -"

Everyone started counting. "Five - four - three -"

"Slim!"

"Fit?"

"Yes."

"Makes sense. You're a black belt and a health nut. I accept," said Tatsuki smoothly. "Now someone else gets to ask a question."

Ichigo sighed, pained. "I can't believe I agreed to this…" he muttered.

"No grumbling!" Tatsuki mandated. "Somebody else, ask a question!"

"Androgynous, masculine, or feminine?! Dark and serious, or cheerful and happy?!" Orihime was beaming.

"Hey, that's not fair, she asked two questions! Does she get ask two question?" Ichigo protested.

"Dodging the questions, Ichigo," Tatsuki grinned, and everyone started counting again. "Five - four -"

"Androgynous! Dark and serious!"

"Intelligent?"

"Yes."

"HA! We have a type!" And everyone started cheering.

Ichigo leaned over and put his face in his hands. "You're going to _embarrass_ me into being openly gay?" he asked.

"Only because we love you, Ichigo," said Tatsuki, shrugging.

* * *

Ichigo was on his way to the bathroom, his face still rather warm, after question time was over. It was still lunch. He'd just left the school restroom when he looked up and saw three guys surrounding him. Big guys.

"Hey, fag." The guy in front pushed him.

"Touch me again and I'll fucking murder you," Ichigo growled, barely keeping a hold on his temper.

"Oh, yeah? You don't like this?" The guy shoved him again mockingly.

Ichigo could see his friends on their way over, but he didn't exactly need their help and was determined to prove it. He wasn't a weaker fighter just because he liked _men_. He kicked the first guy in the dick, punched him in the face, and swept his feet out from under him. The other two charged at him from either side; he ducked out of the way and let them body slam into each other. Then he took their faces and smashed them against each other's.

It was over in a matter of a few seconds. By the time his friends had run over, none of them could stand.

Ichigo marched right over to the headmaster's office and stuck his head in. "Sir?" he said calmly. "I need you to take three six-foot male students to the school infirmary, and then make the announcement over the loudspeakers that Kurosaki Ichigo just sent three students to the hospital for making fun of his homosexuality."

Everyone stared - his friends, the people in the headmaster's office, everyone.

"Well," Keigo observed, "it turns out all we had to do is piss him off."

"Indeed," Chad agreed, deadpan.

* * *

Over the following months, Ichigo slowly grew accustomed to the idea of his sexuality. He went on a couple of dates - one to a concert, one for some coffee.

Neither of them led to anything, but neither of them went horribly wrong either. Nothing weird happened, both guys were perfectly polite, and he was actually much more attentive of them than he thought he would have been toward a woman. Dates with guys actually held his attention; they were interesting.

He got his first real kiss at the end of one of them, and it was soft and warm, and it lasted for much longer than he admitted to any of his friends the next day.

After that he started becoming more comfortable, talking about who was hot and who wasn't.

* * *

Over the course of time, Ichigo realized he was happy. He had a strong friends group at school, he didn't hate his job, he got good grades, he proved adept at raising two younger sisters. He came to accept himself as he was, not as he wanted or didn't want to be.

Despite all the death that had dogged him throughout his short life, he realized he had come to a calm place - a place where he was satisfied with himself and his life. He woke up one day and realized his parents' deaths didn't hold a dark sway over him the way they used to.

He had come to terms, he thought, with the idea of death.

He admitted to Karin and Yuzu one night, "I need you guys to be okay with it, because I know you can sense them, too… But I'd like to try talking to some ghosts again.

"I'm not as - I don't know - bitter, anymore."

Karin and Yuzu looked at each other and smiled. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

* * *

Author's Note: One more chapter left and after that we've hit canon, ladies and gents.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ichigo began approaching ghosts, talking to them. He found a common theme - a lot of them had remained behind, instead of passing on, because they could not find peace. Usually because of some concrete reason he could help with.

So he took to helping one or two with their problems - doing things a living body could do, but a dead imprint could not - and from there it snowballed. It wasn't long before all the ghosts in Tokyo heard about him, talking about him to each other.

The Kurosaki kid could see ghosts.

And from there, his apartment became a kind of thoroughfare for the dead. Ghosts would wander through at all hours, looking for peace, and Ichigo would smirk dryly and say, "Let me guess. You've already heard about me."

He never seemed particularly enthusiastic about all the attention he was getting, but he never turned a single ghost away.

"I don't see myself as a hero," he explained to Karin and Yuzu. "I don't voluntarily seek them out. I'm not some sort of naturally heroic person at all. But - if someone asks me for help, I can't just turn them away, can I? That would be a shitty thing to do."

Slowly, as he came into contact with more ghosts, more of them began to find him and his sight began to improve. He started seeing ghosts more clearly, and began being able to view those subtle spirits he had before only sensed - like the ghost of Orihime's brother in her apartment.

Unbeknownst to Ichigo himself, this would have effects as yet unseen.

* * *

The anniversary of their mother's death was in the summer, their father's in the fall. Each time they went to the cemetery and had a picnic.

Ichigo stood before the two graves, frowning at them for a moment, as Yuzu and Karin were setting up the picnic blanket behind him. There were so many questions left unanswered about his parents' deaths, and he wasn't sure if he would ever find out exactly what had happened on those two days.

He closed his eyes, and bowed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "for everything I did - and everything I didn't."

Then he turned away to set up the picnic with his sisters. He couldn't afford to lose himself here. He had two little girls to take care of.

By the time spring hit, Ichigo was fifteen and in his second year of high school. He'd grown accustomed to his life, had overcome the odds and found some measure of peace.

That's when it all went to hell.

* * *

Author's Note: Just a short little chapter before both canon and 2017 start. Happy New Years, everybody!

By the way, for those who are confused - in Japan, the school year begins in the spring. Also, usually in Japan high school starts at fifteen or sixteen, in what would be an American's sophomore year, but I stretched that rule for the purposes of this story. In my story, Ichigo started high school at fourteen, attending a middle school instead of a junior high.

So he's now starting in what would be an American's sophomore year, and a Japanese person's first year, of high school. It is spring.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

It was just another ghost, just another night after school and work.

The fallen forms of the skateboarders were moaning in various states of pain around Ichigo. Ichigo loomed above the leader of the gang, foot on his throat.

"Do you know why I'm here, missing dinner with my family?" he said quietly, raising his eyebrows. It was seven at night and he'd come straight from the bookstore; he'd been waiting for these assholes for a good hour, then watched them for a while to see what they'd do. He pressed down and the guy began choking. "It's because you fucked up."

Ichigo lifted his foot and the guy gulped deep breaths of relief. He still spoke deceptively softly.

"You've left swear words in big block-letter graffiti all over the alleyway, along with broken beer bottles and cigarette butts. You've been loud, making noise, for several nights. And your friend just tried to do a trick on his skateboard and smashed right into that offering over there."

Still speaking quietly, Ichigo pointed behind himself, at the vase of flowers lying smashed on its side, broken petals strewn everywhere.

"Do you know who that offering is for, dickweed?" said Ichigo with a false calm. "Tell me. Answer me this. Who are offerings usually for?"

"... Dead people," the bloodied, beaten guy muttered begrudgingly.

"Correct. And who was _this_ offering for?"

"... A little girl was killed here in a mugging last week."

"Very good," said Ichigo, his eyes widening sarcastically. "Stop ruining her final resting place and I won't have to break your kneecaps. Do we understand each other?"

"Look, man, who are you to come in here and -?" the guy began in a loud complaint. This was most definitely the wrong answer. Ichigo socked a punch into his gut and threw him against the far wall with a thud.

"Talk to me again, motherfucker, and I will _end_ you," he hissed. "People will be bringing you flowers. They'll bring them in great troves, littered all over the fucking alleyway, for the stupid piece of _shit_ who went where he didn't belong and said the wrong thing to the wrong guy."

The man's cohorts were backing up. They'd already been beaten once, and bruised and bloody, they didn't like their odds. "Shit," one guy muttered, "he's _insane_ …"

Ichigo paused, and suddenly threw the man away, his face twisted in disgust. "You all are pathetic. Get out of here. I'll know if you come back."

They scrambled away.

The steel fell from Ichigo's expression, as did the disgust. "How was that?" he asked casually aloud to the seemingly empty alleyway. "Good enough?"

The floating transparent girl, chain hanging from her chest, invisible to all but him, appeared nearby. "Yes," she said, smiling. "Thank you. Now I can rest peacefully, Onii-chan."

"Don't mention it." Ichigo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll come back tomorrow and leave fresh flowers, clean this place up for you. And then, do me a favor? Try to move past what happened and pass on, okay? You can't hang around here forever.

"Later." He threw a hand casually over his shoulder and walked out of the alleyway.

He'd been starting to wonder, lately, why it was he and his sisters could see and sense the dead. To his knowledge, neither of their parents ever had. He used to think it was because they grew up above a hospital, but they hadn't lived near one of those in over a year and the power was only getting stronger.

Add that to the long list of things he didn't understand concerning death and his own past.

* * *

As he walked into the apartment, Karin and Yuzu said casually, "Another one."

Ichigo looked around, saw the ghost of the old businessman, sighed and swore. "Take a number," he said. "We're closed for the night but I'll try to get to you tomorrow. Don't worry. I help everyone pass on eventually."

He threw off his book bag, moaned and shuffled off to the kitchen to make dinner.

"Rough day, Ichi-nii?" said Karin casually from the table.

"Another two ghost requests. The cash register stopped working properly at work. History essay due on Friday. Yeah, you could say that," Ichigo muttered, his voice, as always, muted. "Bring your homework over while I'm cooking, I'll help you out."

Homework for his sisters and dinner, then video games, then his own homework, then shower and bed. He fell into bed as he always did - deeply dreamless and totally exhausted.

He was totally oblivious to the fact that strange spirits were looking for him, that already everything had changed. Change had happened as it often did - without courtesy or warning.

Somewhere out there, Kuchiki Rukia was wondering, even as she carried out her Shinigami duties, about the heavy spirit energy she sensed in the air. It hung like a shroud all over the Karakura district of Tokyo, but the Hollows didn't seem strong enough to have caused it. And why they were all sticking around Karakura…

That was also a mystery.

* * *

The next morning over breakfast, Karin turned to the morning news on the TV as usual and Ichigo frowned, halfway finished with his bowl and tea.

A nearby Karakura street that he recognized had been torn to pieces by some great explosion. The newscaster was saying that the incident had happened at about 7:30 this morning, with no conceivable cause. The weirdest part? No one was injured.

"What's wrong, Onii-chan?" Yuzu asked, seeing his expression.

"Nothing, it's just… That's close to here." Ichigo was still frowning at the television.

"You think it's some weird gang thing?" Karin wondered.

"Maybe…" But Ichigo was watching the scene on the TV, and that wasn't really what it looked like at all. It looked like the claw-work of some massive, monstrous beast.

Immediately after he had the thought, he dismissed it as stupid.

* * *

Before school that morning, he took the vase of flowers and walked it back to the little girl's alleyway. He set the new vase down, cleaned out the old remnants, and watered down the walls and ground to wash away the graffiti and litter.

At last, he stood, frowning. Why hadn't she appeared to him? "Hey!" he called uncertainly. "You around?"

No answer.

Suddenly, he heard her scream from the street beyond. Unthinking, he ran out there - and there was a great ripple of breaking glass as windows all along the bottom floors of the street exploded. People began screaming and running blindly in different directions, but he ran through the smoke, trying to find the ghost of the little girl.

Because she was already dead. Why would she be screaming?

Then they loomed up through the smoke and he saw them. The little girl was being chased by a massive monster, the size of a tall building. It looked almost like some strange Shinto spirit, with the body of an insect but a white skull mask face. It chased after the ghost of the little girl, echoing out screeching, howling roars.

"Onii-chan!" said the little girl, reaching him. "What is that thing?!"

Now it was chasing both of them. "I don't know," said Ichigo, stiff with fear. "Run! _Run!"_

They ran in a sprint away from the giant monster looming up behind them. It was gaining on them, and gaining on them - and then the little girl tripped and fell to the ground.

Ichigo knew it was suicidal, and stupid; she was already dead. But he ran back to get her anyway. He couldn't just watch a little girl fall behind him, and possibly get hurt.

This thing, whatever it was - it could see her.

"Come on, stand up!" he barked, kneeling down beside her. Then the monster was directly over them, its shadow dark. _"Never mind, get down!"_ he shouted, and threw himself in front of her - looking up into the monster's maw as it opened up to swallow him -

And then he heard a sword unsheath, saw black cloth cover his vision.

As he fell over, a girl in black and white samurai gear wielding a real katana sword blocked the strange monster from reaching him and the little ghost girl. She was small, pale, and delicate, with dark hair and violet eyes. Yet in that moment, she visibly had more strength than he did.

She leaped up supernaturally high into the air with a single cry of effort, and cut her sword down through the monster's head and through its body, cleaving it in one stroke. It dissolved as it was cut, disappearing from existence with one last shrieking howl. She sheathed her sword, and it was gone.

Ichigo realized he'd fallen; he slowly stood, shaken. "H-hey -!" he called after her, but she was already gone. One moment she was there, the next she simply wasn't.

He heard people beginning to talk in the street behind him.

"Another strange explosion."

"What caused it?"

"What's going on?"

He went cold. He realized nobody had seen the monster or the samurai girl - except him. It was almost like they were spirits.

Ichigo turned to the little girl behind him, lost. " _Please_ tell me you saw that," he pleaded with her, pained.

"I - I did," said the little girl in awe, nodding. "What was it?"

"No idea," said Ichigo, and he realized as he said it just how terrifying that was - that he, who thought he'd seen it all when it came to death, had no idea what just happened. "But," he added dryly, "at least I'm not going insane."

* * *

Author's Note: Changes should start to become more evident next chapter. This was really just to get the ball rolling.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Notes: I go by anime, not manga, which means for the purposes of this story that last manga arc never happened. You know what that means? I can make my new Ichigo's zanpakutoh into anything that I want.

Keep that in mind as you read.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Ichigo didn't know how to explain to anybody what had happened without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic, so in true repressive fashion, he didn't tell anyone about it and tried to pretend like it _hadn't_ happened. He went to school, went to work, came home, made dinner for his sisters - but he was distracted the entire time.

He was on his bed doing homework for the night when it happened.

A black butterfly fluttered through his closed bedroom window. He looked up, confused - and the samurai spirit girl floated straight through his bedroom wall. Her feet gracefully touched the floor. She was staring straight ahead, not looking at him, as if listening for something.

"It's close," he heard her murmur, and her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Hey." Ichigo cleared his throat. "Um. I can see you." She still didn't look at him. "I'm the kid from the street today? I - I can see spirits."

Finally, the samurai spirit girl turned to look at him, confirming his suspicions. Her eyes widened and she stared at him for a long moment.

"Yeah," he said quietly, nodding. "I'm, uh - I'm talking to you." He stood up and walked over to her. "My sisters are playing video games in the living room. We won't be disturbed. Look, what _was_ that in the street today? What the hell happened?"

He was used to talking to spirits, so this was a somewhat normal conversation for him. But he was, frankly, bewildered.

The girl lifted her chin. "I am a Shinigami. I do not have to tell a human anything," she said loftily. "Now go away. You are interfering with my duties."

"Bullshit," said Ichigo bluntly. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I could mess up and interfere again when it really matters. Wouldn't that be worse?" The girl paused, looking torn. Then something she'd said clicked in his head. "Wait a minute - Shinigami? The spirits who ferry ghosts and dead souls to the afterlife?"

"... That is correct," the Shinigami girl admitted after a long moment.

"So why the hell haven't I ever seen one of you before?"

"... Excuse me?"

"I've been able to see dead people all my life," said Ichigo, frowning.

"As well as you are seeing them now?" the Shinigami girl asked expectantly.

"... No…"

"Well, that explains it. Only people with great spirit energy can see us. In fact, I have never met a human who could see a Shinigami before. _Why_ your spiritual pressure has suddenly increased, however, I cannot say…" she murmured.

"I can." She blinked, surprised. "I've been working with ghosts around the area - doing things for them, helping them find peace. Look, that's not really the point of my question. What was that monster out there?"

"It is called a Hollow," said the Shinigami girl, still looking uncertain as to whether or not she should be conversing with a human at all. "Shinigami have two principal duties: to send spirits on to the afterlife, a place called the Soul Society, in a ritual called Konso, and to vanquish evil spirit monsters called Hollows. Hollows attack the living and the dead indiscriminately and devour their souls."

"So… those souls they eat… are gone forever?" Ichigo confirmed.

"No. When Shinigami vanquish Hollows, the souls the Hollows ate are released."

"And what about the afterlife - this Soul Society place. Do all the souls who have ever died just stay there?"

"No. Life is a cyclical process, a process of reincarnation. When one dies in the Soul Society, they are reincarnated in the land of the living. But the Soul Society aging process is slower. Ten years for every one of yours."

"And what powers do Shinigami have? How do you decide who does what?"

"Shinigami can perform Konso on ghosts, and vanquish Hollows - using either their zanpakutoh, or swords, or kido, spells using spirit energy. Shinigami duties are divided into districts. Each Shinigami is assigned a mission, a place to guard for a set period of time, either in the living world or in the Soul Society.

"I was sent here. I am searching for a Hollow, but it suddenly went off my sensing radar. It is peculiar, as if some force is blocking my senses. There is a lot of spiritual pressure in the air in your district, but I can't discern the cause of that either. And now I've met a human here who can see me. This is a strange place."

"It figures I'd live in the weirdo district," Ichigo muttered dryly. "So, what about you? What's your name, your story?"

"Kuchiki Rukia, seated officer, Thirteenth Division. Member of the noble house of Kuchiki."

"Soul Society has nobility?"

"New souls are born in the Soul Society often. Those with spirit energy become nobility and marry others with spirit energy. Most often, they also become Shinigami. Many ingrained noble families have produced nothing but strong Shinigami for centuries."

"Great. But that wasn't the point of my question, Kuchiki Rukia," said Ichigo, amused. "Who are you? What do you like?"

Rukia looked uncertain and almost offended. "I am not allowed to fraternize with humans," she said stiffly.

"Oh, for -" Ichigo rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I'm _gay_."

Rukia seemed to relax minutely. "You are?"

"Do I look straight to you?" Ichigo asked sarcastically.

"... Fair point. Then what was the point of your question?"

"I just… was curious to know what Shinigami are like," said Ichigo, shrugging.

"Shinigami are all different. They are individual souls with personalities and hobbies just like everyone else," said Rukia, sounding almost as exasperated with Ichigo as Ichigo was with her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She moved past him.

"What, you've finally sensed the Hollow?" said Ichigo curiously.

"Not exactly."

He turned around. The ghost of the old man was floating there. Rukia put the hilt of her sword to his forehead, which glowed blue when she pulled it away.

"P-please…" he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I-I don't want to go to the Netherworld…"

"You are not going to the Netherworld." Rukia smiled quite kindly, seeming much less stiff for a moment. "You are going to the Soul Society. May you find happiness there."

The ghost dissolved away in a flood of blue, and a black butterfly carried the soul up through the ceiling and beyond.

Hands in his back pockets, posture casual, Ichigo watched them leave and let out a long, low whistle. So she really was what she said she was. Well, that answered that question.

"Hey, I got a question."

"Another one?" said Rukia flatly, smile falling flat.

"Why was the Hollow after that little girl today? I mean, he could have eaten anyone on that street, right? Why her?"

Rukia paused, as if this had just occurred to her. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "We are still studying the Hollow's behavioral patterns. Its motives are sometimes unknown to us. It was at least attacking the entire block - we know that for sure. Hollows are only noticeable, even during an attack, to the people they are attacking. All other humans come under what is known as the unnoticeable effect."

Ichigo nodded. "You know, if you're looking for ghosts to send on…" The Shinigami turned to him sharply. "I know pretty much all the ghosts around here. I could point you in the right direction."

"You're not helping me," said Rukia flatly.

"I'm not talking about helping you. I'm a selfish bastard, no way am I putting my life on the line for a bunch of total strangers," said Ichigo bluntly. "But it just makes sense for me to show you where the ghosts are. It's of little risk or inconvenience to myself, and besides, a lot of those ghosts have become my friends."

"I don't need your help."

Ichigo was very close to losing his temper. "Alright," he snapped. "Fine. Stumble around blindly after a bunch of ghosts hoping a Hollow doesn't eat one of them first."

He and Rukia glared at each other for a moment. Then Ichigo suddenly stiffened, a sound reaching his ears. "Hey, uh, Shinigami?" he said in an unnaturally high, falsely calm tone. She apparently couldn't hear a goddamn thing.

"What?" she said, looking puzzled as the blood drained from his face.

"You don't have to worry about finding the Hollow anymore."

"Why?"

"Because it's howling right outside."

Then there was a rumbling, earthshaking crash and a scream. "Karin! Yuzu!" The Hollow was attacking the living room. Ichigo sprinted toward his bedroom door -

"Bakudo Number One! Sai!"

Ichigo felt his arms and legs spring together, bound by an invisible force, and he fell over flat on the floor. Kido, he registered distantly as he struggled. This must be kido.

"Stay here, human!" Rukia barked. "There is nothing you would do except get in the way!"

"No, you don't understand! I'm raising my sisters, they're my only family, they need me!" Ichigo pleaded from the floor. "You have to release me!"

"I'm not releasing you -!" Rukia paused, stunned.

The blood was pounding thick in Ichigo's head and ears. Panic and anger and fear raced through his veins. He registered a golden glowing emanating from his body.

"No, stop, no human can break kido! If you force it, your soul will -!"

And then in a great surge of energy, Ichigo felt himself become freed. He shot to his feet and raced past the Shinigami out the door to save his sisters.

As soon as he moved away from Rukia, the Hollow's spirit energy hit her like a ton of bricks. It had been he leaking energy, he jamming her senses.

What on earth _was_ that boy?

* * *

Ichigo skidded into the room to find Yuzu crawling toward his bedroom door, covered in blood. He bent down to her, but she gasped out, "Onii-chan - Karin-chan -"

"I know, I'm going to get her," said Ichigo hurriedly. He ran into the living room, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and ran out the hole the Hollow had made in the living room. It was huge, hulking, and humanoid, with a fish-like white mask. There was the same hole through its chest, the same white mask over its face, the same howling roar. It was holding Karin above the city street.

Ichigo threw the knife at the Hollow's hand holding his sister, it roared in pain and dropped Karin, Ichigo caught her in midair (she was unconscious) and as the Hollow reached out for them he set her on the ground and blocked her with his own body -

But the Shinigami had appeared. Rukia leaped upward and cut at the Hollow's arm. It retreated, howling, and disappeared for a few precious minutes.

Rukia landed in front of Ichigo with her sword out. "Now I understand," she said softly.

Ichigo straightened, breathing deeply, his heart still pounding furiously. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Hollows will eat all souls, it is true, but they prefer souls with high levels of spirit energy," said Rukia. "You, human, can see Hollows and Shinigami as a living being. You can break top notch Shinigami binding spells. You were the one jamming my senses, the one leaking spirit energy all over your district.

"You have grown too powerful. Hollows are voluntarily seeking you out, attacking people and places you know but eating no one because they are not looking for anyone else. They are looking for _you_."

Ichigo had stood. The weight of this hit him, and he looked at his unconscious sisters. If this kept on, they could die, he realized - die because they existed near him.

Anyone he was around could die because they existed near him. And he refused to accept that.

The Hollow had reappeared, facing them.

Ichigo pushed Rukia out of the way and got into the space where she had been. "What are you doing?" Rukia snapped from the ground.

"Protecting my sisters in the only way I know how," said Ichigo in a low voice, and he braced himself and ran straight at the Hollow's open maw.

"You idiot! _No_ -!"

Right before he reached the Hollow, a flash of black cloth passed before his vision and the Hollow's teeth crunched around Kuchiki Rukia's form instead.

Ichigo stopped, stunned. He hadn't expected it, because from a Shinigami's perspective, what she had just done made no sense. Without him around, one measly soul, there would be far less Hollow attacks in her area. She could then save his sisters and send him on to the Soul Society.

Why the fuck would she sacrifice herself just to save him?

The Hollow spat a struggling, dying Kuchiki Rukia down on the ground, and disappeared once more. Blood began pooling around her fallen form. "You… _idiot_ …" she gasped out. "Hollows are never full; it would just have attacked your sisters!"

"Yeah, with you there to save them!" Ichigo snapped, and then he paused and closed his eyes, trying to keep a hold on his temper. "You should have let me die; I'm not that important."

"You are more important than you think," Rukia whispered, and Ichigo's eyes opened in surprise. "You would do anything, then, to save your sisters?"

"I'm their mother… and their father… I'm all they have. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't let anyone else in my family die," said Ichigo fiercely, heatedly.

Rukia sat up with effort and held her trembling sword out to him. "Then take my blade, and become a Shinigami."

Ichigo paused. "... What?"

"If I pierce my zanpakutoh through your heart, I can temporarily gift some of my powers to you. You would remain a living human despite this - if you survived the transfer. But to someone who would recklessly throw his life away, that risk should be no problem," she added coldly.

Ichigo nodded, straightening, firm. "I'll try anything. If it doesn't work, I'd have died anyway. Give me the sword." He reached out a hand.

"... Your name."

"What?" said Ichigo, caught off guard.

"You have me at a disadvantage," said Rukia, remarkably calm given the deadly wounds eating away at her abdomen. "You know my name, but I do not know yours. I am about to risk it all for you, and I don't even know your name."

"It's Kurosaki Ichigo," Ichigo said. "Ichigo. That's my name." He grasped the sword.

The Hollow had reappeared. "Are you ready?" said Rukia solemnly.

Ichigo nodded, swallowing, unable to speak.

The zanpakutoh was pierced through his heart and it all went black.

* * *

He was by a quiet riverside, one not unlike the river his mother had died at, hung by shady trees. A geisha was having tea beside the river, her back to him. All was calm, quiet. It was raining. She sat underneath the shade of a tree, the rain dripping onto her head and into her teacup.

"Hey," he began, confused. "Where am I? I thought I was saving my sisters -"

She turned to look at him. Lines of black mascara ran in tears down her white face. Her eyes were wide and unhinged. She gave him a beautiful smile, revealing black, rotting teeth. "You are," she said calmly.

Ichigo had backed up in instinctive fear.

Then rivers of dancing ice sparked through the sky, the rain shuddering, thunderclouds shuddering, falling water turning to snow. The geisha looked up, and her high, unnatural laugh echoed across the landscape. She suddenly turned into a huge being made of lava, and shot up into the sky to meet the dancing ice.

Soon, giant geisha made of lava, snakes coming from their hands, were entirely engulfing the dancing ice, which was melting underneath their grasp. "Wait, stop! What are you doing, stop! You'll kill it!" Ichigo called, panicked. The laughter got louder.

The lava engulfed the ice completely and shot up into the sky where it had come from, and Ichigo blacked out again.

* * *

When he awoke… he was in a Shinigami's black robes, standing in front of the Hollow. He was wielding a sword the same shape as Rukia's, but at least three times its size.

What kind of bizarre hallucination had that been?

He registered Rukia knelt behind him, beside his body - behind him, like his injured sisters. He felt hot anger fill him.

He shot forward and cut off one of the Hollow's legs, then its arm when it reached out for him. "This is what happens to people who touch my sisters," he growled in a low, deadly voice, and he sliced through the Hollow's head and down through its body.

It dissolved with one last shriek.

He felt the world spinning - Rukia calling to him as if from a great distance - he felt himself falling, and he blacked out again.

He had done it, was the last thing he registered - he had saved the Shinigami, and his sisters.


End file.
